Pulpy and Midge (28 page)

‘Now, here's something I wanted to show Midge.' Beatrice held up the lotion bottle and depressed the nozzle, and a wad of golden goop shot out and landed in her open palm. ‘It's peach spray lotion!' She massaged it into the skin of her arm with languorous circles.

‘How can you spray a lotion?' Midge snorted, and then she was laughing. Laughing away on the divan next to Pulpy's boss. ‘Can you make the fire bigger, Dan?'

‘You bet!' Dan punched a button and the flames shot up with a
whoosh.

Pulpy was sweating. He leaned forward and moisture slithered down his back.

‘Come on, Pulpy.' Beatrice slid her glistening arm under his nose. ‘Take a whiff.'

Undigested waffle and peas and jerk pot roast sloshed around in his stomach, and he set his dish down on the floor.

‘Ooh, you nearly cleaned your plate!' she said. ‘I hope you saved room for my baked Alaska!'

‘Hooo! Are we in the Sahara here? Because I am h-o-t!' Dan flapped his hem up and down to make a breeze, then leaned toward Midge. ‘But this lady here is an oasis. Look at you – I just want to dive right in.'

Beatrice shook her head and in a low voice said, ‘Dan.'

‘Midge, if you think that fire over there is nice, wait until you see
this
!' With a jump Dan propelled himself off the couch
and turned so he was facing her.

Pulpy opened his mouth but no sound came out. The already thick air seemed to congeal around him and he sunk further into the deep suede of the sectional.

And then Dan undid his kurta.

‘Dan!' shouted Beatrice.

Dan let the tunic fall and the rich fabric slid down, down, down, and then he wasn't wearing anything at all.

Pulpy sat looking at his boss's broad naked back and bulbous naked rump, and there, curling around and over him, was a long lick of red and orange and yellow burning across his bare skin. ‘I'm on fire, Midge,' said his boss. ‘Put me out!'

Nobody moved. Nobody said another word. And then Midge reached a tentative, drunken hand toward the tattoo and pulled it back again, and she looked away and looked back, and Pulpy was so very far from her, acres of hardwood away and now Beatrice's right breast was in front of him, slicing out from the folds of her kimono. ‘Touch it,' she said. ‘It's yours to touch.' Her fly-away strands of hair writhed.

And now Dan was reaching for the buttons of Midge's paisley top, those funny swirling shapes all over her, and now Beatrice's kimono was wide open and there was all of her underneath, gleaming at Pulpy, and now Midge was staring straight ahead with big, big unfocused eyes.

She pushed herself back against the couch, away from Dan, and Pulpy nudged Beatrice aside. He hadn't even realized his shirt was gaping open, exposing his concave chest with Midge's love line, which was starting to grow back now, and he stood up and then he was across the room already, in fewer steps than he thought it would take. He laid a hand on his boss's pink shoulder – there were a few dark hairs on it, and the skin was warm – and said in a loud, clear voice, ‘That's enough, Dan.'

The large shoulder muscles bunched under his smallish palm. ‘What did you say?'

‘I said we're leaving. Come on, Midge. Let's get out of here.'

Midge stood up and blinked, and took a deep breath like she was coming up for air.

Behind him, Beatrice yelled at Dan, ‘Idiot! What did I say? We didn't even get to dessert! I told you you were moving too fast!'

‘And another thing.' Pulpy reached into his pocket and groped for the pager. He took out the small, black rectangle and tossed it onto the coffee table. ‘I don't want this anymore.'

Midge rubbed her face and walked over to him, pausing in front of Beatrice on the way. ‘I'm going to need my clamdiggers back,' she said.

‘Sure.' Beatrice lay on the sectional with the overripe peach smell coming off her in waves. ‘I'll bring them into the office.'

With his back still facing them, Dan shook his huge head slowly from side to side. ‘You're making a big mistake here, Pulpy.'

Pulpy opened Dan and Beatrice's front door, and smiled a little. ‘I don't think I am, actually.'

Dan breathed a long, loud breath out of his nose.

‘Pulpy,' said Midge, ‘what about our coats?'

‘We'll get them tomorrow,' he said. ‘Dan can bring them into the office for us.'

‘Yeah, sure.' Dan snorted. ‘But I think you're forgetting it's winter outside.'

‘Well, it'll be spring soon.' Pulpy put his arm around Midge, and smiled wider when he saw that her scallops were starting to grow back. She put her arm around him too, and on their way out the door Pulpy said, ‘I'll see you tomorrow, Dan.'

‘Uh huh.' His boss stood there with his thick arms at his sides. ‘See you tomorrow.'

‘I'm getting sleepy,' Midge had said near the end of their first date.

They were in Pulpy's apartment, sitting on his bedroom floor with music playing in the background.

The Fancy Guppy he'd bought her earlier that day was doing laps in Pulpy's favourite mug, from college.

‘Listen to this chord,' said Pulpy. ‘It's a really good chord.'

‘You music people,' she said. ‘All chords and trebles and clefs.' She pointed to a pen and the notebook he used for song ideas, sitting nearby. ‘Would you please hand me that paper and pen there?'

He gave them to her.

‘Thank you.' She balanced the notepad on her knee and took the pen in her right hand. She flipped to an empty page and wrote ‘Pulpy' in a careful, looping script. Then she switched to her left.

He watched her write his name the same way with her other hand, and when she was finished he held up the paper with the two ‘Pulpy's on it and admired the way she had put equal flourishes on both sets of P's. Then he said, ‘If you're tired, I have a bed you could sleep in.'

She patted his mattress. ‘I saw it.'

‘It's pretty comfortable. I can sleep on the couch.'

‘You don't have to. It's your bed. We could sleep in it together.'

‘Well, all right, then,' he said.

‘Do you have anything I could wear? For sleeping?'

‘Yes, I think so.' He opened a dresser drawer and pulled out a sweater.

‘No, I think that might be too hot.'

‘Oh. How about a big T-shirt, then?'

‘A big T-shirt would be perfect.'

He opened a different dresser drawer and pulled out his favourite T-shirt, with the empty music staff on it. He handed it to her and stood up. ‘So I'll just let you –'

She smiled, and he backed out of the room and closed the door.

‘Do you like candles?' she called to him through the wood.

‘I love them,' he said.

‘I'm glad to hear that! Candles are my passion.'

He laid a hand on his door. ‘I'm applying for a new job tomorrow. Cross your fingers for me, because I think this might be the career break I've been waiting for.'

‘They're crossed!' she called. ‘Now come back in.'

‘Oh,' he said when he saw her. ‘My T-shirt looks nice on you.'

‘Thank you. I like all the horizontal stripes.'

‘Thank you. Well, I should –' He went back to his drawer and pulled out another T-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts. ‘I'll be right back.'

‘I'll be here,' she said.

‘That's good.'

And she was.

Many thanks to my family (especially Mom, Dad, Cameron, Marcella, Grandma ‘Matriarch' Westhead and Kate) and my friends for all of their love and encouragement, always.

Thanks to Mike Stokes for magic and plastic cockroaches.

Thank you to Jim Munroe and the Hoity Toities, as well as the Humber Gals, Lit Crit and Critty for inspirational workshop action, and many thanks to Toronto's wonderfully nurturing small-press community. Thanks also to Fred Stenson and the Banff Wired Writing Program for giving me a huge boost when I needed it most.

Thanks to Lynn Coady for her incredible insight and Pulpster pep talks.

Thanks to Sam Hiyate for having faith in this story and in me.

Thank you to Sarah Selecky, literary light, for endless support and understanding.

Thanks to the Ontario Arts Council for generously helping to fund this project.

I'm grateful to everyone who read
Pulpy and Midge
at various stages and gave me their invaluable feedback: Ryan Bigge, Eva Blank, Beckie Calder, Jeff Chapman, Dad, Gary Flanagan, Jasmine Macaulay, Laura McCurdy, Jim Munroe, Jen Noble, Renee North, Aaron Peck, Susan Purtell, Emily Rossini, Carol Sakamoto, Steve Sakamoto, Sarah Selecky, Gene Shannon, Dana Snell, Ken Sparling, Craig Taylor and Sherwin Tjia (thanks also to Sherwin for his lovely drawings).

Thank you to Alana Wilcox for knowing what made Pulpy tick right from the start, and for taking such good care of him and Midge with her fantastic edits. I'm also grateful for Stuart Ross's keen proofreading eyes. Thanks to Evan Munday, Christina Palassio and the rest of the Coach House folks for all of their hard work and their excitement about this book.

And, most of all, thank you to my husband, Derek Wuenschirs, for (among so many other good things) listening.

Jessica Westhead is a Toronto writer who has published stories in litmags such as the
Antigonish Review, Matrix, THIS Magazine, Geist, Taddle Creek, Forget
magazine,
Word
and
Kiss Machine.
Her fiction was also included in the anthology
Desire, Doom & Vice: A Canadian Collection,
and her short-story chapbook,
Those Girls,
was published by Greenboathouse Books in summer
2006
.
Pulpy and Midge
is her first novel.

Typeset in Legacy, American Typewriter and Linoscript
Printed and bound at the Coach House on bpNichol Lane

Edited and designed by Alana Wilcox
Drawings by Sherwin Tjia
Goldfish photo by Derek Wuenschirs
Author photo by Derek Wuenschirs

Coach House Books
401
Huron Street on bpNichol Lane
Toronto, Ontario
M5S 2G5

416 979 2217
800 367 6360

[email protected]
www.chbooks.com